


that’s the way the river runs

by saddestboner



Series: in the shadows [15]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Not Beta Read, Other, Past Relationship(s), Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 08:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13783269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/pseuds/saddestboner
Summary: He’s still a work in progress, still stitching a new life together from the pieces of his old one.





	that’s the way the river runs

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [this prompt](http://nullrefer.com/?https://saddestboner.tumblr.com/post/171227431591/i-still-remember-the-way-you-taste-maxrickyyy) on tumblr. Lightly edited.
> 
> The character named Erica isn't meant to be Max's real life wife.
> 
> Title from "Nothing Changes," by Anaïs Mitchell.

_you, the one i left behind_  
_if you ever walk this way_  
_come and find me lying in the bed i made_  
— "Flowers (Eurydice's Song)," Anaïs Mitchell

Verlander brings Rick as his plus-one to the offseason awards gala which is... It’s a little weird, honestly. Kate was off shooting a movie in Italy or something, and somehow Rick got roped into going with him.

(It’s times like this Rick wishes he’d stayed with Max in Washington, after all.)

He hasn’t been around this many baseball players in years, and he feels the loss like an ache pressing behind his ribs.

Rick hooks his arm in the crook of Verlander’s elbow and endures the _looks_ from other players who know Verlander’s engaged to a world-famous supermodel. He knows they don’t think he can hang with Kate, looks-wise, but whatever.

Rick and Verlander flit from various groups of players—with Verlander introducing Rick as his distant female cousin, which Rick doesn’t think anyone buys anyway.

“You could at least’ve come up with a better cover story for why Kate’s not here,” Rick grumbles at Verlander as they sip on expensive champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

Verlander rolls his eyes and speaks through a mouthful of cured cheese. “No one cares.”

And, well, he’s probably right. But still. Rick doesn’t wanna see his face pop up on TMZ. 

“Hey, Ver!”

Both Rick and Verlander lift their heads at the familiar voice. Verlander breaks into a horsey grin and strides forward, extending a hand. Max bypasses the hand to pull him into a bro-hug.

“Long time no see, man,” Max says, beaming at him. 

He turns to the side and Rick sees her. A tall, pretty blonde in a tasteful black dress, with her platinum hair pulled away from her face and held back with diamond clips.

“Justin, this’s Erica—”

Verlander glances back at Rick, like he just can’t help himself, and then Max notices him for the first time too. 

Rick wants to ask him: _Erica? **Really**?_

But he just says, “Hey,” and offers his hand to Max instead.

Max glances at Rick’s hand like he thinks he might be hiding a booby trap or something. Rick’s not sure if he should feel offended by that, but he decides he does.

“Rick—Erica,” Max stammers. He slips his hand around Rick’s and squeezes it. It’s not quite a handshake. “I—I—how’re you doing?”

“Good. You?” Rick gently extracts his hand from Max’s grip. 

Rick kind of hates how familiar Max’s hand feels in his. 

“Um, good. Erica, this is my girlfriend. Uh...” Max glances at the other Erica and chuckles, as he slips a hand over her back. “This’s Erica. Erica Dente. An old friend from Detroit.”

Max’s girlfriend shakes off Max’s hand and steps froward, taking Rick’s hand in hers and squeezing it warmly.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” and Rick thinks she probably means it.

“Likewise,” he says, offering her a small smile. 

Rick isn’t sure what else to say to her. He gets the distinct impression Max didn’t tell her about him. Which is understandable. How do you tell your new girlfriend that you’d been living with your former teammate—who woke up in an unfamiliar body, once upon a time—for however long they were together.

“Erica Dente,” Max’s girlfriend says, tapping a finger against her bottom lip. “I knew I heard that name somewhere before. You tried out for the Tigers’ open tryouts. It was all over MLB Network.”

Rick feels himself flushing, modestly. "Oh, yeah. I thought everyone’d forgotten about that.”

“I was rooting for you,” Erica says, smiling brightly. “I played softball in college. Pitcher. I always wished that was me. And you did it.”

Rick feels a tiny twist in his stomach in the face of Erica’s admiration. He couldn’t help but feel like an impostor, given his background. “Yeah, it was an awesome opportunity. Lot of fun.”

“Why didn’t you take the offer?” Erica asks.

Rick flicks his eyes away from her, to Max. He meets Rick’s eyes, nods slightly, and something passes between them. A look of understanding, maybe.

Rick glances back at Erica. “I gave it all up for love,” he says, rolling his eyes, making it sound more sarcastic than it actually was. “The relationship didn’t last. Kind of wishing I’d taken the offer.”

Rick catches Max’s tightening jaw and the fingers of his hand clenching around the stem of an empty wineglass. Maybe he’d gone a little too far. It wasn’t _totally_ Max’s fault for how things ended. He’d wanted Rick to go with him to Washington, after all. He’d wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. Even proposed marriage with a ring and everything.

“I’m gonna get a refill,” Max says, slipping his hand away from Erica’s back. 

He glances at Rick. Rick knows he wants him to join him so they can rehash the past or something. 

Rick is sick of living in the past. 

But he nods at Max and the two of them slip off toward the bar.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Max says. 

“I didn’t wanna go but I owed Verlander a favor,” Rick says, shrugging at him as they approach the bar.

Max touches Rick’s shoulder, gently, before pulling his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s been almost four years,” Rick replies, which isn’t really an answer. Or, at least, it’s not an answer to any of the questions Max hasn’t let himself ask yet.

“Rick,” he tries again, but Rick cuts him off with a shake of the head.

“Are—are you happy?” he asks Max, plucking the wineglass from his hand.

Max quirks a lopsided smile at Rick. “Yeah. Life’s been pretty good,” he says, lifting his head and looking all around them.

There are massive banners for every player nominated for an award. They’re standing under Max’s banner. There’s an image of him in an untucked Nationals jersey, covered in chocolate sauce, fire in his eyes, silkscreened onto it.

Rick swallows down a lump and looks away.

Max sighs softly and lifts a hand. Rick flinches, thinking for a moment that he’s going to touch him, but he just sweeps his hair away from his face.

“How about you?” Max asks, quietly, as he toys with the stem of the wineglass in his hand.

Rick sighs and cuts his eyes away from Max’s. The blue eye burns right through him, like he’s seeing all the words and thoughts Rick’s trying so hard to conceal. 

Rick’s quiet for a few long, heavy moments before he says, under his breath: “I still remember the way you taste.”

Max looks away too and Rick feels like he can finally breathe again.

“I should go,” Rick says, backing away from him. “Justin’s probably wondering...”

“Rick,” Max starts, but Rick just cuts him off with a shake of the head. 

“Good luck tonight,” Rick says, reaching out and then pausing, his hand hanging suspended in the air like he’s a marionette on strings. He drops his arm to his side. “I... I hope you win.”

Max nods, stiffly. “Thanks, Ricky...” 

Rick turns and heads back to Verlander and Max’s... Erica. She seems charmed by Verlander, like everybody usually is, tucking her glossy blond hair behind her ear and tossing her head back in a full-throated laugh. 

Erica’s laughter dies off, but the smile lingers on her lips when she spots Max heading back over to them too. Her blue eyes sparkle with warmth and she holds a hand out to Max, who wraps his fingers around hers.

They seem happy. Normal.

Rick feels it gnawing in his insides again. That empty feeling that cores him out.

He’ll never have that, but that’s fine. 

He’s still a work in progress, still stitching a new life together from the pieces of his old one. 

Maybe, someday, he’ll even learn how to be Erica Dente.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
